If someone we know has a new baby boy, you can be sure that in picking out a present for him we'll choose something blue, because blue is for boys, right?

But it wasn't always that way. Here's a 1415 painting as proof that once it was very right and proper for a male baby to be kitted out in pink.

This altar panel by Lorenzo Marco is called The Virgin and Child Enthroned, and it hangs today in the National Art Gallery in Edinburgh.

Mary is in her usual blue robes while young Jesus is rocking it in a rosy hue. Pink was pretty usual then for men. Leonardo da Vinci apparently used to stride around Florence in a pink robe and liked jasper jewellery and Cordoba leather boots. Quite the cool dresser, he was.

It was only in the 20th century that somehow the 'blue for boys' rule became commonplace. Around the turn of the century most infants were dressed for best in white, and girls and boys wore dresses well into childhood. Little boys didn't get into trousers until about six or seven.

Then colours crept in, and as late as 1918 the USLadies' Home Journal said, "The generally accepted rule is pink for the boys, and blue for the girls. The reason is that pink, being a more decided and stronger color, is more suitable for the boy, while blue, which is more delicate and dainty, is prettier for the girl."It was post World War II that saw a huge surge of pink for females, as femininity became prized after the grim war years and pink was seen to best exemplify it.

There's plenty more in this article about J B Paoletti, author of a book called Pink and Blue: telling the boys from the girls in America.​PS Blue for the Virgin Mary wasn't always the trend in European painting. It was only the importation of brilliant blue lapis lazuli in Renaissance times that gave artists a bright and solid blue to play with. It was very expensive – and of course only the priciest paint could be lavished on Mary's wardrobe. Hence the blue we associate with her now, even though in earlier times her robe was usually painted in duller shades of green and brown.

]]>Mon, 09 Nov 2015 21:33:23 GMThttp://www.bigbluethinking.com/blog/november-05th-2015New York What an azure night it was late in October when many notable big things around the world were lit with blue lights to celebrate the 70th anniversary of the United Nations, set up after World War II to try to keep the lid on future conflicts and build a bit of harmony around the planet.

There are more pretty pictures here, at a site called Egyptian Streets, where most of the pics below come from and where they are attributed to the right sources.

While no doubt everyone's intentions are terrific, you have to wonder how much actual peacefulness has been brought about by the UN ever since the 40s. We may not have had world wars since then but there have been, and continue to be, some doozies of the more limited yet still lethal kind.

The Guardian newspaper in UK has been wondering too. A really good article here explains writer Chris McGreal's scepticism about the times when those famous blue helmets haven't been up to much.

What a shame they've sometimes fallen short. The UN's blue colour is supposed to stand (some say) for the colour of the sky that arches over all of us. And which should, in that case, symbolise that we're all in this together. And that fighting is therefore pointless.​Making that so needs to be more important than lighting up the world's tourist attractions. Lovely though it all looked on the night.

The first examples were concocted in China in the 9th century. So says Mr Wikipedia anyway. Only shards still exist.

Production was pushed along in the 14th century by a blend of Chinese artistry and Persian trade. Persia (that's Iran today) had this wondrous stuff called cobalt, so highly prized it was double the price of gold, and it looked stunning applied to white porcelain.

As centuries rolled by, China exported their wares to Islamic and European lands.

Then, enter one of the world's first industrial spies, a Beijing-based Jesuit priest named Francois Xavier d'Entrecolles, who sent the secrets of making fine blue and white porcelain to Europe in the early 1700s. Soon, potteries such as Meissen, Sevres, Worcester, Delft and Royal Stafford were producing their own versions. The most famous blue/white china of all is the willow pattern, which looks Chinese but was invented in England and based on a fanciful story with no Chinese heritage at all. I was about to post a picture of a modern bowl when I stumbled over the image above from the online A-Z guide to ceramics at the Victoria and Albert Museum.This messy stack is so much more interesting than one perfect piece.Fused together, crumbled and cracked, it has a name. It is, the V & A tells me, a waster. It's the old, discarded remains for a firing gone wrong. Archeologists and historians love unearthing them for the info they reveal on old production methods. While it was rubbish, it was handy rubbish - put to good use as ballast and as filler material on construction projects. Apparently tons of British wasters were sent to New Delhi in the 1920s and used in street building. It reminds me of what wise people say: no experience is ever wasted.When we start something and don't finish, or make a mess of a project, we so often beat ourselves up. "I'm useless," we mutter. "What a waste of time." And, "what was I thinking?" But it's not a waste of time. When potters hauled wasters from the kiln, they'd have examined their mistake, put it aside and moved on. It's the same in daily life. When we stumble, we learn. When we don't deliver, we get clues on how to do it better next time. We tuck the memory of failure away, like a cracked stack of old china. Then, sometime later, when we need bring it on, that's when we can produce the thing that shines.

]]>Sat, 23 May 2015 23:30:33 GMThttp://www.bigbluethinking.com/blog/goggle-thisWho knew sunglasses were such an old idea?

The word 'goggle' looks a bit weird these days now that our minds are so attuned to Googling. Back in the 19th century it was goggles that were weird, as in these blue sunglasses from the London Science Museum.

They look so modern, huh, these dark blue lenses in silver frames, and we don't imagine them sported by our great-grandparents.

I got to know about them in doing research for my upcoming historical novel, Scarlet and Magenta.

One of my female characters is a radical kind of gal and I was looking for ways in which she could annoy a conservative thinker of the time.

I hit upon blue sunglasses when I came across as outraged comment in a February 1882 issue of the Auckland Observer.

In colonial New Zealand gravel wasn't available to protect wheels and boots from getting stuck in mud around town and so they spread white sea shells over roads instead, which set up a glare in strong sunlight.

The editor ranted about how "the beauty of our maidens is marred by the wearing of atrocious blue goggles to save their eyes from the shells".

And so here they are, these ones dating from between 1860 and 1900. I'm intrigued by the loops at the end of the arms - presumably for ribbon tied on to each side to keep the glasses handy or maybe to tie them tighter around the head to fix them more firmly to the face.

My chief amusement, given how often I lose my own sunglasses, is how these blue beauties have stayed intact for well over a century.

It's a amazing outlook from the 27th floor of the Burj Al Arab Hotel in Dubai. I stood there earlier this year, almost at the top of its curving tower, and snapped this view through the huge restaurant window.

Dubai spread out at the my feet in a dusty, glittering sprawl, with the world's tallest building, the Burj Khalifa, just visible on the hazy horizon.

Fabulous white boats were moored in the cove below and, off to the left, a public beach with sand as white as the yachts.After a staggeringly good lunch it was time for some touring so off we went for a close-up look.

Below is a shot of the hotel from that beach. Note how few people there are.

The reason - the baking, holy-hell heat of the place.

The only way you could sit on this beach for any length of time would be under some shelter. Hence the reason for that solid blue tent in the foreground. It's a bit weird when you think about it... someone under the vast blue, utterly cloudless sky had to shield themselves from the blistering sun with a semi-circular 'sky' of protective fabric.

I've thought about blue sky quite a lot since then. Our guide was smart, charming professional. Mozhgan, an Iranian, has a geology degree and speaks three languages. Of all the things she told us, one stuck in my mind.

We were talking about the many nationalities who live and work in Dubai. Her strategy for calming any tensions is simple. She asks, "What colour is the sky in your country?"

Blue sure has its soothing side. It's all about one-ness.

But it can also speak of yearning. Some of my fave few lines of poetry are these. They speak of how prisoners feel when they glimpse blue from a barred window..."I never saw a man who lookedWith such a wistful eyeUpon that little tent of blueWhich prisoners call the sky... " It's a tiny part of Oscar Wilde's Ballad of Reading Gaol.

In a recent biting monologue, comedian John Oliver talked about how predator drones have made clear sky a sight that some people in the world look up at with dread. "Congratulations," he shouted to his audience. "We've managed to make one of the last remaining symbols of pleasantness – blue sky – completely f**** terrifying!"

I know that's true because I also met a Pakistani driver in Dubai who'd moved his whole family there from North Pakistan. They were desperate to get out of an area where drones were a constant threat. "When they come down," he said. "they destroy everything for half a kilometre around."

And there's the blue sky that simply makes us feel happy. I've read a few online messages lately from Amanda Harrison, Britain's only female commercial Tiger Moth pilot, who is in her element in open air up amongst the clouds.

For everyone else in the world, signing off is a standard sort of routine. "Regards", we say, or "Cheers", or "Best wishes", or "Ciao". For Amanda, it's a cheery,"Blue skies!". That's more the kind of blue we want to know and love. Even on a grey day, it's an idea to lift your spirits.

Scotland the Brave will have us all riveted in the next 24 hours as its people vote on whether to pull out of the United Kingdom. Passions are running hot and the world's media are all over the debate. We've seen Scotland's flag more often than ever before. So what does it mean, that white cross on a strong blue blackground?

It stands for a story filled with passion, pain and violence. The flag is also know as the Saltire - a word which also means a diagonal cross as in the Roman numeral X.

Scotland's patron saint, St Andrew, is said to have been crucified on such a cross.

A 9th century story goes that a warrior called Oengus led his northern band of Pictish and Scottish fighters into a battle with the hated Angles. The night before the fight, he vowed that if his side won he would declare St Andrew the patron saint of Scotland. The saint came to him in a dream that very night to say they would triumph. The next day, a white saltire formed of clouds magically appeared against the blue and spurred the Scots on to victory.

Blue is itself an old symbol for the Scots (remember Mel Gibson's face all daubed up with blue in Braveheart?).

Early blue flags were dyed with plant-based tints like woad and indigo. These days, rather more prosaically, the official colour for the Saltire is Pantone 300.

The referendum shines a light on what matters on our whole blue world. Look at the planet from space and there are no borders at all - we've made them all up ourselves as a way of protecting what we see as ours. At a time when borders are fading in some ways – given the power of the internet to render them pointless – the Scottish vote demonstrates that the idea of belonging to a special tribe and culture still has a firm hold on our hearts.

Whatever, putting the question to the test is a triumph for the democratic way... and a million times more appealing than taking to the field, as Oengus did, with battle screams and sharpened swords.

Some of my own favourite ancestors – so many brave pioneers – are Scottish. I'll be fascinated to see how the auld country will vote.

Blue stands for Tory, or conservative or right-wing politics , huh? Back up the bus – it ain’t always so. As the New Zealand election looms closer (Sept 20) voters are being bombarded with plenty of blue-themed billboards and ads from the National party, as seen in this image from its TV ad campaign. National is more centre-right than Thatcherish but with its main opponents decked out in the Labour party’s solid red, voters are clear about what colour stands for which school of thought. Blue has many meanings however. In Australia, to be “true blue” is to be Aussie to the core – “dinkum” or “dinky-di” – ardent about sport, great with the barbecue tongs and full of all-round cheerful grittiness and can-do attitude. But its origins are staunchly working-class, going way back to the 19th century when striking workers were cheered as “true blues” – men who stayed loyal to their mates – while scabs and wealthy conservatives on the other side of the fence were disdained. Just to really mess up our minds, US politicians to the Democratic left also fly blue flags, while right-wing Republicans veer to a vibrant red with just a touch of blue and a welter of stars. Probably the one thing they all agree on is that the meaning given to blue in medieval Europe still stands… it’s about loyalty, constancy, faithfulness and truth. Which, sadly, are about the last things we expect to receive from politicians of any colour.

All over this wide blue world we're golng about our business in mostly humdrum ways. Each morning (barring surprise events) a new round of routine resumes. Boring, boring! But for highly creative people it's not so much a slog as a challenge as they try to sort out which road to go down next.

When people with heads full to bursting wake up they're not sighing over the boredom of the day ahead. You might think, lucky them. But when you have a head full of possibilities it can be a painful struggle to ignore the ones yelling out "pick me!" to focus on the one most likely to be fruitful.

How do they do it? Here's a great quote from film maker and writer Werner Herzog that I spotted at the wonderful brainpickings.org

Here's his take on finding the right place to focus on. "The problem isn’t coming up with ideas, it is how to contain the invasion. My ideas are like uninvited guests. They don’t knock on the door; they climb in through the windows like burglars who show up in the middle of the night and make a racket in the kitchen as they raid the fridge. I don’t sit and ponder which one I should deal with first. The one to be wrestled to the floor before all others is the one coming at me with the most vehemence."

One of my fave big blue thinkers in the world is Neil deGrasse Tyson. I was delighted to catch some of his interview by Fareed Zakaria on CNN's Global Public Square show today. What a lovely mind Tyson has. He talked about the human explorer gene and how dire it will be to deny it by denying the desire to see what's outside our own world. He is clearly exasperated by people’s lack of interest in space, even while enjoying space technology's benefits – such as satellite TV, streaming radio and using GPS to find the way to Grandma’s place. He said: “People say, I don’t need space, there’s nothing more I need." Watch and you can see Tyson's passion as he says, "There’s a whole universe! I, as an astro physicist, see the universe, hear the universe, smell the universe every day. For people to say ‘I’m cool, I’m here, it’s all I need, now let’s live’ – well I say, that’s how to die, not how to live.” My only reservation – that in the minds of many (even someone as smart as Tyson) Grandma is always the metaphor for a passive person, someone soft and settled, not someone active and questing. In my life, I’m the Grandma using GPS to find the things that help me keep growing, not waiting for GPS to bring life to my door. Not that I don't enjoy that too!